Biker Brigade

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “Aaron said he made a fake profile, one that wouldn’t trace back to him.”

  “That’s what I did when I first started. I thought I’d get quick information. Shit!” Brett pressed his fingers to his temple. “I’ll send T to guard Aaron for now. When did this happen?”

  “Two or three days ago. I can’t remember.”

  “That will buy me some time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Aaron signed a contract. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fake profile. It’s assumed that most professionals do the same thing. He has one week to accept his first contract. If he doesn’t, the gatekeeper will go after him. It won’t matter if Aaron hid his tracks. The gatekeeper will find him.”

  I didn’t have to ask what would happen next. I might have been in the dark about many things, but the gatekeeper I was beginning to understand.

  “Brett, if you want me to trust you, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

  He nodded hesitantly. “This is something I never wanted to tell you. I’m sorry I kept it a secret, but I thought it best.” He took a long breath and looked to the ceiling, pondering. “It had started when I first began investigating Eve’s death. Someone had told me about the app, that I could buy or trade information. At the time, I didn’t have any leads. Every person I talked to was a dead end. I thought I could just get on, post for information, and see where it’d lead me.”

  “You signed the contract.” Suddenly Brett’s career was starting to make sense.

  He nodded. “I used a fake profile and a police computer. I figured that alone would keep anyone off my back. One day before my week was up, a warning was sent to all of my personal accounts. I had to accept a contract or face the consequences. My entire family was listed, with names and addresses.”

  “So you accepted your first contract.”

  “I had to. After the first job, I tried to find the gatekeeper. Hell, I’ve been trying to find him this entire time. Between searching for the Sledgehammer and my compulsory one-month assignments, I’ve been looking for him.”

  “Every month you have to complete an assignment?”

  He nodded.

  I couldn’t remember exactly when Eve died, but he had to have had about two dozen hits so far. So many deaths. How could a soul recover from that?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, angry. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I walked into this hell on my own two feet.”

  “But to have to kill all of those—”

  His brow wrinkled. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “But you were paid, and your family is still alive. How is that possible?”

  “Mars, I never harmed anyone. Each assignment I took, I researched first. I made sure to find victims who’d be willing to leave the country. We split the payment fifty-fifty, and they promised never to return.”

  “And no one has?”

  He shook his head. “For each one of them, it was a perfect escape. They were relieved to leave with their pockets full.”

  I wanted to cry. In fact, tears were already spilling over. He didn’t kill them. And he wasn’t lying. I couldn’t reason how I knew he was telling me the truth, but I felt it swirling in my heart. These past days of anger, fear, and worry collided with relief.

  “Mars, either stop crying or uncuff me,” he said, tugging at the restraint. “I can’t watch you cry from over here. I’m sorry for what I put you through. I thought if you knew, I’d scare you off. I had no idea that the gatekeeper listed you as my penalty until recently. I thought with T’s help we’d be able to find him before anything happened.”

  I dried my face on the sleeve of my robe. I wasn’t finished with Brett yet. I still had one more question, and I didn’t want him to clam up as soon as I uncuffed him.

  “What were you searching for at the house you and T went to?”

  “Eve.”

  “I had heard that, but I don’t understand.”

  “You were right about the pictures. They were put in the box for one purpose.”

  “What?”

  “To lure me away from you. And it worked. If you hadn’t run when you did . . .” He shook his head. “They were pictures of Eve. At first I thought it was just to link the box murder to the Sledgehammer so prosecution could claim the wrong person was accused. But then I saw the date stamp was a recent date. I thought for sure Annie was trying to mess with my head, and I was going to ignore it. But then someone requested my services; payment would be information leading to Eve’s whereabouts.”

  “So you had to find out for sure.”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t stop myself. Even when I flew to Wisconsin I knew it couldn’t be true, but I kept hoping by some miracle that Eve was still alive. I should have trusted my instincts, but it was my sister. I had to try. T warned me not to rush, but I thought if I got in and out, I’d be back for the trial. But one clue lead to the next. It was an endless trail. I shouldn’t have left you at my parents’.”

  “If you didn’t go, you would’ve regretted it.”

  “I already have so many regrets. What’s one more?” He shrugged. “But it wasn’t all in vain.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Annie and the gatekeeper are somehow connected. I was led astray twice, and both times it had to do with Annie or her victims. There’s a connection.” Brett eyed me for a moment, and I had a feeling he was debating whether he should confide a detail.

  “Tell me if there’s more,” I said, jingling his keys. “If you want my trust, you have to tell me everything.”

  “At Fenwig’s, there was a man with a wispy voice. You heard him but didn’t see him.”

  I nodded. “He was never caught.”

  “He told you that you were responsible for a few of his clients’ downfalls, including Annie’s.”

  I nodded again.

  “Mars, the man who told me about the app had a wispy voice. I was set up. I was fed false information to keep me under the gatekeeper’s thumb. He was protecting Annie, and I guarantee he’s the one behind the recent murder. Annie, the gatekeeper, and that man are all connected.”

  “Did you see him?”

  Brett shook his head. “No, it was an anonymous call from an unlisted number. I thought, what would be the harm in checking out the information?” He laughed harshly.

  Helpful advice from an unlisted number that turned out to wreak havoc? It sounded very familiar.

  Too familiar.

  Chapter 17

  Perhaps there was hope after all.

  “I know where he’ll be,” I said, tossing Brett his keys.

  “How?”

  “I bet the wispy-voiced man is the same anonymous ‘friend’ warning me about you. He found my new number and texted again tonight.”

  “What did he say?”

  “To meet him tomorrow night at ten. Alone.”

  Brett rubbed his wrist where the cuff had been. “Let me read it.”

  I pointed to the phone at the nightstand. “It’s the only one on there.”

  “Where’s your old phone?”

  “In the garbage. It took a swim.”

  He eyed me. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a broken mailbox and a shattered bottle of champagne, would you?”

  I shrugged. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “It has been.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to take your phone with me.” He picked up his gun and headed to the door. “Bolt it behind me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Wait.”

  He stopped, his hand resting on the door handle. “Yes?”

  “Nothing,” I finally said and watched with a heavy heart as he slipped through the door.

  He didn’t touch me. Not even a reassuring hand squeeze before he left. At first I had been relieved. My emotions were so jumbled and turned around that I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

  But then he left and his touch was the only thing I desired.

  Pathetic.
>
  Nothing had changed, or perhaps everything had changed. Brett was still in cop mode, cutting himself off from me. The one positive that came from tonight was knowing that Brett was still the man I thought he was, just in a bad situation. And, I had one less person to run from, allowing a corner of my withered heart to rehydrate.

  That didn’t mean this was over—not by a long shot. I knew exactly what was going to happen in the morning. He’d try to pack me up and ship me to Texas or Wisconsin. It wasn’t going to happen. It was my life on the line too. He might have my phone with the message, but he didn’t have the meet-up point. Not yet, anyway.

  Brett had been fighting this battle on his own for too long. And while he might be better suited to handle it, I was just as determined.

  I glanced at the clock. It was a little after midnight now. Brett said he’d see me in the morning, meaning he’d be ready for me nearly any time I walked out that door.

  Pacing the room, I tried to plan, but there’d be no way to contact everyone without waking them. And by morning, it’d be too late. If we wanted to make it to the meeting point in time, we’d have to leave no later than six.

  I sat down in the chair, deflated. I’d have to face off with Brett again in the morning; there were no other options at this point.

  * * *

  At five the next morning, I knocked on the connecting door to Rand’s room. He opened it, wearing dark circles under his eyes. This had to end soon. We were all sleep deprived and starting to look like zombies.

  He took one look at my stained clothes and frowned. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Sylvia.”

  He raised a brow but didn’t comment further. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes, but I want to talk to you before meeting the others.”

  “We have a whole day on the road; there’s plenty of time to talk.”

  True, but I didn’t feel like shouting through the wind. “Brett broke into my room last night.”

  Rand straightened. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you knock?”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you more later, but he’s going to try to get us to turn around. I won’t let that happen. I’m going to Boston.”

  “If there’s one thing I love doing, it’s pissing off Brett.”

  I smiled. “Then let’s go. I have to check with the front desk and see if they have my shoes in lost and found.”

  He looked down at my socked feet. “Do I want to ask?”

  “Probably not.”

  Before we headed to the lobby, we stopped at Mrs. Janowski’s room and knocked on the door. The ladies looked much more mobile than the night before.

  “Mars, do you notice anything different?” Mrs. Janowski turned around in a circle, showing off an inch or two of added curves.

  “You should be much more comfortable,” I said, hoping that was the right thing to say. What do you say to an eighty-year-old wearing booty lifts?

  The girls looked to Rand for his opinion. He turned to head to the elevator, grumbling about women. He reminded me of a Hank junior.

  “He’s feuding with his ex,” I said.

  The ladies were appeased.

  “We’ll meet you downstairs in a couple of minutes,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to warn you. Brett will be down there.” At their wide expressions, I hurried through a two-minute summary of last night and gained their support of still moving forward to Boston.

  It should’ve bothered me that Mrs. Janowski agreed so quickly, but the others weren’t far behind in their acceptance.

  With the ladies spreading the word about Brett, Rand and I headed to the front desk. I scanned the lobby when we stepped off the elevator, wondering where Brett was. I thought for sure I’d see him by now. But the lobby was empty.

  While Rand checked out for the both of us, I peeked into the lost and found box. My shoes were sitting on top, still lubed. Looking for something to wipe them off with, I noticed a ladies room off to the side. I waved to Rand, letting him know I’d be right back and then hurried in. It took ten paper towels to remove the goop, but my shoes were nearly back to normal and, more importantly, not slippery. I left the restroom, happy they were restored.

  That happiness was short lived as soon as I reached the lobby.

  Brett and Rand were facing each other, arms crossed, deep scowls on their faces. I sighed. I knew this would happen, I was just hoping it wouldn’t. Both men would be unreasonable and looked as if they were standing their ground.

  Crossing over to them, I prepared myself. I had to be strong and remember the ultimate goal: Find the gatekeeper and put him out of business.

  They weren’t talking, just glaring at each other, and I wondered what I had missed.

  Tapping Rand’s arm, I told him it was time to go.

  Brett’s glare snapped to me. “Where are you going?”

  “Boston.”

  “No, you’re going home.”

  “Great,” I said, sarcastically. “That makes sense. I’ll be in the perfect spot for the gatekeeper to find me. He won’t even have to break a sweat.”

  “You’re not going to Boston.”

  “I am,” I stated. “And I’m not going to argue about it here.”

  Brett glanced behind me, and I realized we had company. The ladies and their crew were standing a few feet away. Seeing Jack and the bikers at my side, I felt relieved. They would go the distance even if there was nothing in it for them, except for a life-threatening situation and hardly any sleep. Seriously, I didn’t know why they didn’t turn and run. Half of them barely knew me.

  Brett’s jaw clenched. “Don’t do this. I’m just trying to protect you.” His eyes flashed between me and Rand, and I realized I was standing next to Rand as if I had chosen him over Brett. And, sadly, it was the truth. Rand had agreed to help; Brett wanted to take over. I think Brett realized it too and switched tactics. “If you’re hell bent on going to Boston, then you’re riding with me.”

  The thought of driving in the Viper instead of on the bike was nearly enough to sway me. And when Brett reached out, knowing I was teetering on a decision, I inched closer to Rand. “I’m riding with Rand,” I stated. “I know he’ll take me to Boston.” Brett’s eyes targeted Rand.

  “I said I’ll take you,” Brett said.

  I shook my head. “We’ve been down this road before. How many times have you cuffed me, thinking I’d be safer out of the way?”

  “You’ve done the same to me,” he reminded.

  It was true. We did have a problem with using cuffs, but that was something to contemplate later. “Which is exactly why I’m going with Rand,” I said firmly.

  Rand smirked at Brett, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Time to go, sweet thing.”

  Brett’s glare was lethal.

  This was not how I’d wanted the confrontation to go down. I knew it was going to hurt and be extremely uncomfortable, but this was like an extra slap in Brett’s face. Brett was aggressively overprotective, but he wasn’t the bad guy.

  However, it had to be done. Brett had to know that I wasn’t going to back down.

  Settling behind Rand on the bike, I watched as Brett stalked to his car, never once glancing back at us. His stride was hard, angry. I feared that even if we lived through this, Brett and I would never survive it.

  * * *

  After several hours of riding nonstop, we finally took a break at a wayside. The bikes formed a row in the parking lot while everyone attended to their needs. Brett didn’t stop.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Jack said.

  “I think I pushed him too far. I’m afraid he’ll try to reach the gatekeeper before us.”

  “That’s exactly what he’ll try to do,” Mrs. Janowski said. “But don’t you worry about him. Let him think he’s outpacing us; it’ll keep him focused.”

  “We should meet up with the Comets in two hours,” Bob said, patting my shoulder.

&nb
sp; “If nothing else, we’ll have strength in numbers,” Jack said.

  Bob and Mac nodded their agreement. “You can’t knock us all down if you only have two fists,” Bob said.

  True. But I had a feeling fists weren’t what we had to worry about.

  Bob adjusted his pants, fidgeting almost.

  Hank looked at him oddly. “What are you doing?”

  Bob leaned over to Hank and whispered, “They aren’t staying where they should.”

  I glanced between the men, wondering if this was something I should be listening in on. I certainly didn’t want to ask what wasn’t staying in place, not if it was in Bob’s pants.

  Mac leaned in as well. “He’s wearing boxers. They’re falling out.”

  Okay, now I was sure I didn’t want to know what they were talking about, but I was blocked by the ladies who were crowding in to see what the hubbub was about.

  “Hank, why does it look like you have shoe prints on your butt?” Ida asked, bending to inspect.

  He jumped away, which unfortunately gave me a better view. I couldn’t help but stare at the odd outline in his pants. It looked like soles of shoes were pressing against the fabric, one on each cheek. In fact, all three men had the same outline, except Bob definitely had a problem going on in his pants.

  I averted my eyes to Jack, who was biting his lower lip in an attempt not to laugh.

  Leaning over, I checked Jack’s backside to see if he was similarly afflicted. He wasn’t, but he caught me checking, which made his attempt at not laughing impossible.

  “Tell me what’s in your pants, or I’m going in,” Ida said to Hank as she pulled up her sleeves.

  Hank shushed her and looked around. “Keep it down, woman! I don’t want the other guys to know.”

  “Know what?” she asked.

  “We heard your idea of padding and went to see if we could find some for men,” he said in hushed tones, peeking around him.

  “We couldn’t,” Mac said.

  “So, we bought these.” Bob pulled out a gel insole. “They work pretty good if you’re wearing briefs to keep them in place, but not so good if you’re wearing boxers.”